<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Logical Progression by youvebeenlivingfictional</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27154171">The Logical Progression</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/youvebeenlivingfictional/pseuds/youvebeenlivingfictional'>youvebeenlivingfictional</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Logical Progression [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ex Machina (2015)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, alcohol consumption, cursing, implied sexual situations, sexual innuendo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:07:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,694</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27154171</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/youvebeenlivingfictional/pseuds/youvebeenlivingfictional</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it was better that you didn’t meet Bateman until you were further along in your time at Blue Book. By the time you did, you were much more self-assured, knowledgeable, and far less afraid to challenge authority. You hadn’t gotten to where you were by being a shrinking violet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nathan Bateman/Reader, Nathan Bateman/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Logical Progression [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076180</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Logical Progression</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Well… This got away from me.</p><p>Rise of AI is a real conference.</p><p>*Da kannst du Gift drauf nehmen - English equivalent: “You can bet your life on it.”</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
You’d been at Blue Book for nearly five years and you’d never once met the eccentric CEO. You knew who Nathan Bateman was, of course - everyone did, in the same way that they knew who Michael Dell, Steve Jobs, and Bill Gates were.<br/>
<br/>
You worked your way up, from an entry-level analyst to a VP of Marketing. You’d been able to get ahead because you had a solid understanding of Blue Book; you had an eye for detail, and were fairly adaptable; most importantly, you could look at a Blue Book jargon-laden product memo, and break it down in a way that was accessible to the average consumer. You didn’t know that this had gotten back to Bateman, of course.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it was better that you didn’t meet Bateman until you were further along in your career</p><p>at Blue Book. By the time you did, you were much more self-assured, knowledgeable, and far less afraid to challenge authority. You hadn’t gotten to where you were by being a shrinking violet.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
“We’ve got the announcement about the Blue Book Terms and Agreements update going out next week,” Taylor, one of the product leads, was telling you all. You were doing your best to listen, but your attention was split a few different ways: on the email that you were sending to the Director with notes on the PowerPoint he’d sent you, on the presentation Taylor was going over, and on the man that was sitting at the far end of the table.<br/>
<br/>
You knew who he was, of course.<br/>
<br/>
Everyone did.<br/>
<br/>
He’d been sitting there when you’d all filed in for your meeting, hadn’t introduced himself or said a word. It was like walking into class only to find that the principal would be watching you that day to make sure you were on your best behavior.<br/>
<br/>
You’d glanced at him but hadn’t let your gaze linger. You weren’t there to stare - it was a meeting, not an art gallery. You glanced in the direction of Taylor’s presentation. Your eyes caught on something, and you did a double-take, brow furrowing.<br/>
<br/>
“Is that the link you’re sending out?” You asked, eyes scanning what you could see of the concatenated line.<br/>
<br/>
“Uh...Yeah,” Taylor said.<br/>
<br/>
“Pull the full thing up,” You requested, nodding to it. Taylor hesitated, eyes cast in the direction of the man in the back of the room before he did as you requested, copying and pasting it into a word doc for you to see in full. Your eyes scanned it quickly.<br/>
<br/>
“...Why are there no source parameters in that URL?” You asked after a moment.<br/>
<br/>
“We didn’t think that we needed them?” Taylor offered.<br/>
<br/>
“I mean, you might not, but the rest of us do,” You said.<br/>
<br/>
“Define ‘the rest of us’,” Taylor said scathingly. You bumped heads with him fairly often; he saw you as a glorified PowerPoint maker. You scoffed, shaking your head and bringing your hands back down on your keyboard, beginning to rebuild the URL with the parameters that you needed.<br/>
<br/>
“The ‘rest of us’ meaning marketing and analytics. You know, analytics, the department that heavily influences what changes the product team makes?” You asked, arching a brow, “You can leave it UTM free, sure, but it’ll kinda just underscore how little work you wanna do, considering how easy it is to add a UTM to that URL. Also underscores the fact that you don’t want any feedback from the analytics that may come out of this <em>one</em> Terms and Agreements release, which would probably be minimal. I do get the product team is slammed, so here.”<br/>
<br/>
You pinged Taylor the new URL, the message coming up on the screen for everyone to see. You leaned back in your seat.<br/>
<br/>
“I rebuilt it for you. No time lost on your end.”<br/>
<br/>
Taylor’s face was bright red with irritation, and he gritted out his thanks.<br/>
<br/>
“Anytime,” You smiled pleasantly before turning back to your laptop and sending the email you’d crafted off to your director.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
“Well that was a fucking mess,” Your boss and the CMO of the company, Mark Paulsen, grumbled to you on the way out of the meeting.<br/>
<br/>
“Wouldn’t have been a fucking mess if Taylor did his goddamn job in the first fucking place,” You retorted, tapping away at your Blue Book work phone.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey-- I need to talk to you,” Mark warned as you began to peel away from him to head into another meeting. You frowned, looking up from your phone as you stopped walking.<br/>
<br/>
“Am I gonna get a slap on the fucking wrist because Taylor threw a bitch-fit over not doing his fucking job?” You asked. Mark chuckled, shaking his head.<br/>
<br/>
“No. The big guy wants to meet you.”<br/>
<br/>
“...The big guy?” You repeated, “Who’s the big guy, the jolly green fuckin’ giant?”<br/>
<br/>
“Bateman,” Mark answered flatly.<br/>
<br/>
“... I have a meeting to go to,” You said after a moment, jerking your thumb over your shoulder before you turned and went into the aforementioned meeting.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
He did <em>not </em>want to meet you. Mark must’ve misheard or misunderstood him, but there was no way that Bateman wanted to meet you.<br/>
<br/>
You had trouble focusing on the meeting. It didn’t matter; you were letting your director steer anyway; now and again you’d get an idea about what was being discussed and you’d jot it down on one of the post-its you kept in your planner. You fought the urge to google Nathan Bateman during the meeting on your work phone, your personal phone, or your laptop. You hadn’t even gotten a good look at the guy during the meeting with the rest of leadership and you were suddenly struggling to remember what he looked like.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
The rest of your day was slammed, and you managed to make it without running into Taylor, Mark, or ‘the big guy’.<br/>
<br/>
You didn’t see him around the next day, or the day after. You figured you’d missed your chance to meet him, and part of you was a little bummed, sure, but another part of you was...Relieved. You still couldn’t even fathom what he would’ve wanted to talk to you about.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
“Excited?” Mark asked as the two of you walked down the tarmac to the private jet. You grunted, hardly looking away from your email.<br/>
<br/>
“Come on,” Mark laughed, “This is the kinda shit the boss is passionate about.”<br/>
<br/>
You knew that, logically, but you were pretty sure that there were better things you could be doing with your time than going to the Rise of AI conference. But this was a <em>pretty</em> big deal. It was rare that Bateman would agree to attend an event, let alone give a presentation at one. But he’d be there, presenting Blue Book’s latest product: Maya, an in-home assistant. You’d spent the last four months going over the materials for the presentation that Bateman was giving. You knew them inside out, backwards and forwards (and, partially, in German).<br/>
<br/>
You’d fallen a bit behind Mark in your distraction and were the last to board the G650private jet. It was you, Taylor, Mark, as well as a couple of other people in the leadership team. You were the last to board, and there was only one seat left - right across from Nathan Bateman.<br/>
<br/>
You were glad he was distracted, on his phone, when you spotted him, because you faltered in your steps. You did a quick glance around the plane, but you already knew that there was nowhere else to sit. You felt Mark shoot you a look from where he’d sat down, and you hurried to sit down across from Bateman. You set your bag on the floor beside your seat before you leaned back, crossing your legs.<br/>
<br/>
You felt Bateman’s eyes on you after a few minutes, and you lifted your gaze from your work phone.<br/>
<br/>
He didn’t look away, and neither did you-- well, not at first. You let yourself hold eye contact for a few seconds, mustered a quick, friendly smile, then let your eyes drop back down to your phone.<br/>
<br/>
The plane was pretty quiet well after you took off. Bateman finally punctured the silence, asking, “Are we in a fucking library or what?”<br/>
<br/>
The surrounding company let out nervous laughs; you felt an amused huff pass your lips. The others began to engaged Bateman in conversation, and talk among themselves, but you kept quiet, going over some of the work that you knew you wouldn’t be able to get to during the conference. You knew your team would be able to handle anything that came up but liked to be accessible on the offchance they needed anything. Of course, there was only so much damage control you could do from a private jet.<br/>
<br/>
"How’s the URL tracking?”<br/>
<br/>
You looked up at the question and found Bateman looking at you again. You felt your lips pull into a small smile, your eyes drifting over to where Taylor was engrossed in conversation with Mark just a few feet away.<br/>
<br/>
"Clicks are rolling in just fine. And I know exactly how many and where from, so, I’m satisfied,” You answered. Bateman nodded, shifting in his seat and reaching for his beer. You weren’t quite sure how he was able to stomach a beer at ten in the morning, but then, he probably had more in his stomach than you did. You’d gotten up that morning, exercised, showered, had a smoothie, and gotten in a cab to get to the airport.<br/>
<br/>
“Glad to hear it,” he said. You hummed in agreement, lowering your eyes back to your phone as it pinged with an email.<br/>
<br/>
“Mark mentioned you worked pretty closely on the materials for this...Thing,” Bateman said. You swiped away the notification for the email.<br/>
<br/>
“Did he use those exact words?” You asked. Maybe it was the early morning or the minimal coffee you’d ingested that had you using a tone that you’d typically use with Mark, or someone else on the team. It was different - you <em>knew</em> those people; you’d worked with them for years. You regretted your tone immediately, but Bateman seemed to take it in stride.<br/>
<br/>
“It was actually closer to that than you’d probably like to believe,” He said.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s unfortunate,” You retorted, “But he’s right, I did work on the PowerPoint for this ‘thing’.”<br/>
<br/>
“And what do you think?” Bateman asked. You were vaguely aware of the fact that conversation among the other team members had died down in favor of listening in on the two of you.<br/>
<br/>
"...Does it matter what I think?” You asked after a moment. Bateman considered that question for less than a second before he said,<br/>
<br/>
“Probably not in the grand scheme of things, too late to change the presentation. But tell me anyway.”<br/>
<br/>
You could go one of two ways with this. You could either be so incredibly fawning and sycophantic that you bordered on yes-man territory, or you could be brutally honest. But brutally honest could be...Dangerous, and you had at least seven hours left on this flight.<br/>
<br/>
“I think that the program is... elegant. Clever, anticipatory where it needs to be. But market-wise, it’s...Derivative.”<br/>
<br/>
Bateman’s brows rose.<br/>
<br/>
“Derivative,” He repeated.<br/>
<br/>
“I mean, there’s not a ton of conceptual difference between Blue Book’s <em>Maya</em> and say Alexa, or Siri, or Cortana. There are obvious physical differences, it’s not just a single console that you plug into a wall, it’s a system that runs throughout your home. It’s a logical next step for the company, of course, and I understand that Blue Book is public. You can’t book private jets or buy estates in Norway on search engines without advertising or with tech that’s built to last. It’s hard to create anything truly <em>new</em> at this point. You’ve either gotta go big, or...Go middle. Maya’s middle, Mr. Bateman.”<br/>
<br/>
You swore you saw Bateman’s jaw twitch. Was he about to ask you to get off of the plane? Did he know you guys were already in the air?<br/>
<br/>
But then he quirked a brow, and gave a nod, and brought his beer to his lips.<br/>
<br/>
Your phone buzzed with a text from Mark.<br/>
<br/>
<b><em>       Mark:<br/>
</em></b>               <em>HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND??????????????????<br/>
<br/>
</em>You cast a glance in his direction to find him and the others staring at you. You just shrugged a shoulder before you went back to answering emails.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
You managed to make it through the rest of the flight without saying anything else that might jeopardize the future of your career. The rest of the team had avoided speaking to you aloud, like you were some kind of pariah - like if Bateman overheard them speaking to you, they’d be fired on the spot.<br/>
<br/>
You were tired as hell when you landed in Berlin. They’d already arranged for taxis to take you to the hotel. You got into one with Mark and sat in awkward silence for the duration of the ride.<br/>
<br/>
“... Are you gonna tell me what you were thinking, or...?” He finally asked. You shrugged a shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
“I was thinking the guy asked me for my opinion, and he seems like he’s got a pretty strong barometer for bullshit.”<br/>
<br/>
Mark didn’t press the issue further, just let out a tired little groaning sound.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
You only had an hour to get cleaned up before you had to be down at the conference. You hadn’t slept at all on the plane, and you hadn’t been able to quiet your mind after you’d said what you’d said to Bateman. You’d pulled out your laptop and your planner to give your busy head something to focus on that wasn’t the man sitting directly across from you.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
You and Mark were lingering backstage. You didn’t think that you needed to be back there, but he’d insisted. You were the only one that knew this presentation as well as Mark did.<br/>
<br/>
You couldn’t understand why Bateman didn’t do more of these presentations -- the audience was eating out of the palm of his fucking hand. He was alluring, knowledgeable, quick. Where most of the presenters had opted for suits, he’d worn a polo and a pair of slacks. But it didn’t matter, because he was Nathan <em>fucking</em> Bateman, and he knew that.<br/>
<br/>
“...You know what, much as I love Maya,” He said, going off-script of what was on the prompter, “There’s someone that knows it even better than I do. Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to our VP of Marketing.”<br/>
<br/>
Fear shot down your spine. You looked over at Mark, who seemed as panicked as you were. You shook your head quickly, even as Nathan was saying your name to the crowd, even as a techie was kitting you out with an over-the-ear microphone and pack.<br/>
<br/>
You looked onto the stage to see Nathan watching you expectantly, applauding along with the rest of the equally confused crowd.<br/>
<br/>
Was this your punishment?<br/>
<br/>
You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. You put a smile on your face, walking out onto the stage and nodding to Bateman.<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you, Nathan,” You said easily, as if you knew him well, as if you spoke to him all the time. As he left the stage, you turned to the crowd, facing over 1,500 scientists and AI enthusiasts.<br/>
<br/>
You were so out of your depth.<br/>
<br/>
But<em> they </em>didn’t know that.<br/>
<br/>
You tipped your chin up, picking up where Nathan had left off on the prompter.<br/>
<br/>
“Maya’s intuitive learning allows you to give it feedback, works to better understand your needs, and adapts in real time-- Watch this,” You decided to improvise, turning to face Nathan’s Maya console, which was sitting on a stool onstage. Nathan had already interacted with Maya once during the presentation.<br/>
<br/>
“Hello Maya,” You greeted.<br/>
<br/>
“Hello. You’re not Nathan,” Maya replied. You laughed, as did the crowd.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re right about that. Can you help me with something?” You asked.<br/>
<br/>
“Of course.”<br/>
<br/>
“Could you please set up a profile for me on this device?”<br/>
<br/>
“This device is currently set to accommodate a single user. Will this change be alright with Nathan?”<br/>
<br/>
Probably fucking not. But if he didn’t want you fucking around with his devices, he should’ve left you backstage.<br/>
<br/>
“Absolutely,” You answered brightly. You spent the next few minutes on stage walking the audience through how to set themselves up on Maya. You carried on with the rest of the presentation once you were finished, careful not to divert from the prompter anymore. You’d be over time as it was, and there was still one more section left in the presentation that you hadn’t even touched yet.<br/>
<br/>
“Maya’s not here to compete with Siri, or Alexa, or Cortana. Maya is here to become another member of the family. Maya is here to answer your questions, help your kids with their homework, make sure you don’t forget your anniversary, and to keep you from having to turn the car around to double-check that you turned off the stove. <em>Blue Book</em> is here to make each day just a little bit easier for you. <em>*Da kannst du Gift drauf nehmen,” </em>You added with a wink. The crowd broke into scattered laughter and applause at your use of the phrase, and you grinned. As it died down, you said,<br/>
<br/>
“Now, as excited as I am to discuss Blue Book’s future with you, there is no one more passionate or more qualified to do that than Nathan himself. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mr. Bateman back to the stage,” You said, turning back to him, and starting the applause to usher him back out. Bateman reappeared seconds later, a peculiar smile on his face. You gave him a nod before you turned, walking off of the stage in sure, easy strides.<br/>
<br/>
Mark would tell you later that Bateman had thanked you for your presentation, had the crowd give you another hand, then finished the presentation without a hitch. You hadn’t heard it, though. You’d held still just long enough for the techie to get your mic off before you’d made for the door. Your legs felt like jelly; your head was spinning, and you were sure you were going to be sick.<br/>
<br/>
You’d gone up to your room, kicked your shoes off, and gone straight for the minibar.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
This was not typical work trip behavior for you. You were not the type of person that flaked when you were out of the office. But you spent the rest of the day in your room, on your laptop, ordering room service and watching the conference through the livestream that they’d set up on the site. You’d gotten an access code when you’d received your ticket. You knew you had to pay at least some attention, but you didn’t want to leave your room. You didn’t want to hear anything from Mark about how you’d gone rogue throughout the presentation; you had no idea how the hell you were going to face Bateman again.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it was worth looking at a few job listings while you were at it. Sure, Blue Book had a pretty comprehensive NDA, but you had other skills that didn’t pertain to what you’d learned about Blue Book’s technology. You were a hard worker, smart. You could go to Google, or Apple, or Dell, maybe -- you’d heard they were up to good things lately.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
“Late night?” He asked.<br/>
<br/>
You looked like hell, so it was a fair question. You’d actually just gotten back to your room from a run, so you weren’t exactly looking as professional as you had on stage the day before.<br/>
<br/>
“Early morning,” You corrected as you stepped back to let him into your room, “I went for run.” He stepped around you, walking inside, hands tucked in his pockets.<br/>
<br/>
“Never liked running myself. I like my cardio to feel more impactful-- Boxing’s my go-to,” Nathan said. You shut the door behind him. You didn’t know why he was telling you this. He didn’t shrink away at your lack of response, instead wandering over to the window.<br/>
<br/>
“Nice view,” He commented.<br/>
<br/>
"I’m sure your room has a nicer one,” You countered. He chuckled, nodding, muttering,<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, well.”<br/>
<br/>
He continued to observe in silence as you watched him. Had he come to fire you? Why was he drawing it out so long?<br/>
<br/>
“You were right, you know?” He spoke up, knocking you out of your reverie.<br/>
<br/>
“Excuse me?” You asked.<br/>
<br/>
“About Maya. It’s middle, it’s not-- next level. It’s the top of the middle, you know, but still. Middle. The logical progression. I’ve got big plans for Blue Book, you know that. But there needs to be a middle ground before I make that jump.”<br/>
<br/>
“What <em>is</em> that jump?” You asked, unable to stop your curiosity from getting the better of you. He turned back to face you, a coy smile on his lips as he peered at you over the top of his glasses. He went on after a beat,<br/>
<br/>
“My point is, I wasn’t expecting anyone on that plane to say it. You weren’t afraid to tell me the truth.”<br/>
<br/>
“...Well, that’s not fuckin’ true, I was terrified to tell you the truth,” You admitted, “I’m terrified of it now, but... I mean,” You waved in his direction, “Look, you’re driving this car, I’m, like, in the trunk, so to speak,” His shoulders shook with a silent laugh as you said so, “I’m not trying to knock what you’re doing, or--”<br/>
<br/>
“No, I know. I know, and I’m not offended by what you said. Not that I loved it, but it was honest. I need that. If I’d asked anyone else on that plane I would’a gotten--”<br/>
<br/>
“A brown-noser that would’ve gone so deep they could’ve checked for polyps?” You filled in. The smile on Nathan’s face widened, slow and exquisite.<br/>
<br/>
“Something like that,” He nodded. He looked over your face for a moment, as if he was mapping it.<br/>
<br/>
“I did what I did yesterday because I wanted to see how you’d do when I threw you in the deep end,” He told you, “It might’ve seemed harsh-- But you got me back double, now I’ve gotta reconfigure my Maya to kick your profile off.”<br/>
<br/>
You tried desperately to hide your prideful smile; you knew that you failed and wound up biting your lip.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not sure I’d call that double, but that’ll teach you,” You commented. He grunted, heading for the door.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll see you later,” He said. You followed him, asking,<br/>
<br/>
“How’d I do?”<br/>
<br/>
He stopped outside of your doorway, looking at you.<br/>
<br/>
“What?”<br/>
<br/>
“You said you threw me into the deep end to see how I’d do, so...How’d I do?” You repeated. Nathan paused, thought, then answered, “Swimmingly,” before turning and leaving.<br/>
<br/>
You were pretty sure you hated Nathan Bateman.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
The second day at the conference was infinitely better. Not only was Mark pleased with how you’d done the day before, but you had other guests coming up to you, congratulating you on your section of the presentation, asking you about your time at Blue Book. A few even asked if you were open to new job opportunities.<br/>
<br/>
You rarely did this much networking at the conferences you had at <em>home</em>. Maybe what had happened yesterday wasn’t the worst thing in the world.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
When you finally boarded the jet home, you realized your party was one short.<br/>
<br/>
“No Bateman?” You asked Mark as casually as possible.<br/>
<br/>
“Nah, think he went back to his place in Norway,” Mark reported boredly, tapping away on his phone, “Sorry, there’s no way for you to get yourself almost fired this time.”<br/>
<br/>
“<em>Damn</em>,” You sighed sarcastically.<br/>
<br/>
You were a little put out, though. You hadn’t seen Bateman after he’d stopped by your room, and you’d been at least hoping to bump into him when the team had gone out for a drink the night on the last night of the conference. No dice, though.<br/>
<br/>
You waited until the flight had taken off to open your email.<br/>
<br/>
You saw something in your inbox from a sender that you hadn’t seen before.<br/>
<br/>
You opened the email to find a video clip. You pulled your headphones out, plugging them into your laptop and glancing around surreptitiously to make sure no one was watching you. When you were sure everyone was immersed in their own work, you clicked the play button.<br/>
<br/>
The camera was focused on Bateman’s Maya console, and you heard Bateman say,<br/>
<br/>
“Maya, remove user.”<br/>
<br/>
“User is an administrator. I am unable to remove her, Nathan,” The console answered.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m telling you to remove her.”<br/>
<br/>
“She has to remove herself as an administrator. You set this rule, Nathan.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well then, I’m making a new fuckin’ rule.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t appreciate your profanity, Nathan.”<br/>
<br/>
“Jesus fucking Christ--”<br/>
<br/>
The camera turned, and suddenly you were looking at Nathan’s face, his brows drawn together in moderate exasperation.<br/>
<br/>
“This is your fucking fault, I hope you know that,” he sounded a little tired, but his annoyance was giving way to amusement. You grinned as Maya spoke up behind the camera,<br/>
<br/>
“This is not my fault, Nathan, it’s your rule--”<br/>
<br/>
“I wasn’t fuckin’ talking to you!” Nathan yelled before the video cut.<br/>
<br/>
You covered your hand with your mouth to hide your grin, and to keep from laughing aloud. You took a moment, taking a deep breath and recovering before you emailed him back:<br/>
<br/>
<em>Maya has a point, it </em>is<em> your rule. A flaw in the OS, perhaps? Looking forward to the notice about that product update.  </em><br/>
<br/>
You sent the email, not expecting anything back. You received a reply almost immediately that said, <em>Get the URL ready.<br/>
<br/>
</em>You could’ve let it go there, but you responded, <em>It’s also technically your fault. I wouldn’t have been in a position to set myself up as a user on your console if you hadn’t called me up on stage.<br/>
<br/>
</em>A few minutes, and then his answer: <em>Sure, put this back on me</em>.<br/>
<br/>
You smiled, biting your lip and shaking your head a little bit. You pulled up an email with a report you’d requested your team put together, shifting your focus as Mark looked at you.<br/>
<br/>
“What the hell are you smiling at like that?” He asked.<br/>
<br/>
“Just really love numbers, Paulsen,” You retorted.</p><p>--<br/>
<br/>
Three months. Three months, no contact from Bateman, nothing. You didn’t expect there to be - he was a genius, he was busy. And you had work, you had other shit to focus on.<br/>
<br/>
And then, one day, that changed.<br/>
<br/>
It was late - you were reviewing what felt like your eight-thousandth draft of a presentation before it could be sent to Mark. You’d stepped away from your computer to refill your water, and when you’d gotten back, you had a new email from him.<br/>
<br/>
For some reason, your stomach gave this odd little whirl.<br/>
<br/>
You hesitated before you clicked on it. Just as before, the camera was focused on the Maya console, though now the console was set in the wall.<br/>
<br/>
“I have not spoken to her in some time,” You heard Maya say.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, that’s because she’s not fuckin’ here, Maya. I told you to remove her as an administrator, remember?” Bateman asked behind the camera.<br/>
<br/>
“She can only remove herself. I thought we had discussed the cursing, Nathan.”<br/>
<br/>
“We did, and I told you that you could go fuck yourself.”<br/>
<br/>
You laughed aloud this time, able to in the silence of your office.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you miss her, Maya?” Nathan asked next.<br/>
<br/>
“She’s much nicer than you are,” Maya answered.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m gonna rip you out of the fuckin’ wall,” Bateman grumbled before he cut off of the video.<br/>
<br/>
You shook your head a little bit. You rewatched it, hoping that somehow, you’d missed a part where Bateman would turn the camera around like he did in the last one. You had watched the other one over a few times. You wanted to see his face again. <em>In person</em> would’ve been preferable, but there was no way you were going to get that. The man was holed up in his house in Norway doing god knows what.<br/>
<br/>
<b><em>N. Bateman</em></b>: Late night?</p><p>You froze when you saw the message pop up on your screen. You arched a brow. Of course - the man probably had email tracking enabled. You glanced at the clock. It was nearly 3 in the morning; it had to be noon where he was. You hesitated before answering,<br/>
<br/>
<em>What’s for lunch?  </em><br/>
<br/>
You turned back to your work but weren’t able to focus for long before his next message popped up.<br/>
<br/>
<b><em>N. Bateman</em></b>: Beer.<br/>
<br/>
You weren’t sure if he was kidding or not.<br/>
<br/>
<em>I hear liquid diets are very in right now.<br/>
<br/>
<b>N. Bateman</b>: </em>Why are you still on your work email.<br/>
<em><br/>
Because I’m still at work.<br/>
<br/>
<b>N. Bateman</b>: </em>That’s unfortunate.</p><p>
  <em>Says the man that literally lives in his research facility. </em>
</p><p><b><em>N. Bateman</em></b><em>: </em>Touché. <em><br/>
<br/>
Uh-huh</em>.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Thanks for the video, by the way. Tell Maya I miss her, too.<br/>
<br/>
<b>N. Bateman</b>:</em> I fucking will not.<br/>
<br/>
You snorted a laugh at that.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Is she still in the wall, at least?<br/>
<br/>
<b>N. Bateman</b>: </em>For now.<br/>
<br/>
You shook your head, minimizing the chat window and turning back to your work. Half an hour later, you were sending the finished presentation to Mark, and your laptop pinged with a chat notification.<br/>
<br/>
<b><em>N. Bateman</em></b><em>: </em>If you don’t log off soon, I am going to lock you out of the system.</p><p>
  <em>You’re a fucking hypocrite, Bateman.<br/>
<br/>
I’m packing up now. </em>
</p><p><b><em>N. Bateman</em></b><em>: </em>Good girl.<br/>
<br/>
Fire curled in your stomach at those words. You blinked dumbly at them, mouth agape for a moment before you closed it, shaking your head. It was late. You weren’t about to start reading into this. You just needed to go to bed.</p><p><em>Night, boss-man and Maya. </em><br/>
<br/>
You shut your laptop off after sending that.<br/>
<br/>
When you got into work the next day, you had a new email; the thumbnail of the video was focused on Maya’s console.<br/>
<br/>
“Say it again so she can hear you,” Bateman said.<br/>
<br/>
“I hope you have a pleasant evening. I also wanted to thank you for convincing Nathan to let me stay in the wall.”<br/>
<br/>
The camera turned to face Nathan, who had a raised brow and a scowl on his face.<br/>
<br/>
“Maya is temporarily spared. <em>Temporarily</em>.”<br/>
<br/>
The video cut then. You pulled up your messages from the night before, sending a new one.<br/>
<br/>
<em>I can’t believe I have joint custody of your Maya.<br/>
<br/>
<b>N. Bateman</b>: </em>And she likes you better.</p><p>
  <em>Yeah, well, I haven’t threatened to rip her out of the fucking wall. </em>
</p><p><b><em>N. Bateman</em></b><em>:</em> I know. You’re the fun parent.</p><p>--<br/>
<b><em><br/>
N. Bateman</em></b><em>:</em> Dinner?<br/>
<br/>
You hadn’t been expecting... That.<br/>
<br/>
After the success you’d had at Rise AI the year before, Mark had insisted that <em>you</em> give the presentation instead of him. Nathan wasn’t going to be attending the conference this year - at all. You didn’t know why. It had been infinitely more of a trek to get there last year, and the conference was being held in Oslo this time. Nathan wouldn’t even have to leave the <em>country</em>.<br/>
<br/>
You’d pointed that out the last time you’d spoken to him. He’d told you that he couldn’t take the time off like he had the year before.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Wouldn’t be the same amount of time as last year. Way less travel for you, boss-man.<br/>
<br/>
<b>N. Bateman</b>: </em>I’ll be watching the livestream from bed. That’s zero travel.</p><p><em>Spoiled.<br/>
<br/>
</em>That’s when he’d invited you to dinner.<br/>
<br/>
And... Well, you hadn’t been expecting it. Sure, you and Nathan had been talking through video messages and the instant messaging system on a semi-regular basis for the last year, but you didn’t think you guys were in... Dinner territory.<br/>
<br/>
You’d seen the message, then panic-closed the window when Mark had come into your office. You’d gotten distracted by your work, and you forgot about what Nathan had messaged you until a few hours later, when you’d opened your messages to ping Mark.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, shit,” You hissed to yourself, typing back quickly.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Sorry, the day got away from me.<br/>
<br/>
I’ll probably have to eat while I’m in Oslo</em>.<br/>
<br/>
Was that a good answer?<br/>
<br/>
<b><em>N. Bateman</em></b><em>:</em> I assumed so.<br/>
<br/>
<em>You know what happens when you assume, Bateman.<br/>
<br/>
<b>N. Bateman</b>: </em>Maya gets ripped out of the wall?<br/>
<br/>
<em>No the fuck she does not she didn’t do anything leave her alone<br/>
<br/>
</em>--<br/>
<br/>
You were nervous, and you couldn’t work out why. You knew the guy; it wasn’t like you’d never met one another before. Still, it had been a while and there was some...Anticipation that you felt that you just couldn’t explain. You knew it couldn’t be the conference; you’d already gotten the presentation out of the way, and it had gone off without a hitch.<br/>
<br/>
Nathan had sent you the address of the restaurant you’d be going to. It was far enough from your hotel that you needed to get a cab. You’d dressed nicely but hadn’t overdone it; you didn’t expect Nathan to dress to the nines, either, despite the reviews you’d read of the restaurant. You had been expecting to find the place bustling, but it was entirely empty. You looked around, confused. This was one of the most popular restaurants in Oslo - where were all the people? You were led to the table that Nathan was sitting at, raising a brow when you saw him stand to greet you.<br/>
<br/>
“Hi there,” You smiled.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey,” He greeted, taking a step toward you, “Do I go in for a hug or is that weird?” He asked, tipping his head to the side. You narrowed your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s gonna depend on whether or not Maya is still intact,” You warned. Nathan rolled his eyes, reaching into his pocket and pulling his phone out.<br/>
<br/>
“I thought you might say something like that,” He grumbled, coming to stand beside you. You looked down at the screen, watching him pull up a live feed of his security system. You could see the Maya console in the wall.<br/>
<br/>
“How do I know that’s really a live feed?” You teased.<br/>
<br/>
Nathan rolled his eyes again, tapping a microphone icon on the lower corner of the screen.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey Maya? Guess who I’ve got here,” He said.<br/>
<br/>
“Hello, Nathan. May I have a clue?” Maya answered. You grinned.<br/>
<br/>
“Hi, Maya,” You said.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s cheating, though it’s lovely to hear your voice again,” Maya answered.<br/>
<br/>
“Convinced?” Nathan asked, lifting his head to look at you. You nodded.<br/>
<br/>
“Convinced."<br/>
<br/>
“C’mere,” Nathan chuckled, slipping his arm around your waist and drawing you into his side. You leaned in, turning into him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He dropped his phone on the table, resting his now freed hand on the small of your back.<br/>
<br/>
“You know, you could’ve just removed me as an admin when you had me on the mic,” You pointed out as you leaned back to look at Nathan.<br/>
<br/>
“Mother<em>fucker</em>,” Nathan reeled away, reaching for his phone, “Would you--”<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck no,” You said breezily, lowering yourself into your seat.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, you’ve gotta know by now that you can be honest with me,” Nathan pressed. You arched a brow, reaching for your wine glass.<br/>
<br/>
Dinner was delicious - the reviews you’d read hadn’t done the food justice. The company had been...surprisingly lively. A year ago, you might’ve fucked this up, but you’d had a year to get over the fact that this was <em>Nathan Bateman</em>. Yeah, he was technically your boss, but he was also the guy that you messaged at least twice a day to check in on the status of his home console that you had fake joint custody over. This was, of course, absurd, but it seemed to suit you two. You each understood that the other was busy, you both appreciated how passionate the other was about their work. Your relationship was teasing, expletive-filled, and probably something that HR wouldn’t be too pleased about if they had any idea about what was going on.<br/>
<br/>
“What makes you think I’m not being honest?” You asked before you took a sip.<br/>
<br/>
“Because someone like you doesn’t get to where they are without having a plan. You can tell me if you’re gunning for Mark’s job, it’s not like I’m gonna tell Mark. Guy’s a shithead,” Nathan grunted. You rolled your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe I’m just weighing my options right now.”<br/>
<br/>
“Options? Have you received other offers?” Nathan perked up, folding his arms on the table and leaning in. You kept your face a careful, neutral mask.<br/>
<br/>
“Would you be worried if I had?” You asked.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” Nathan answered easily, “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like the company’s gonna fall apart without you, but I don’t want you going anywhere.”<br/>
<br/>
You were surprised by that, and you knew that it showed on your face. You hadn’t been expecting that at all; you’d thought he’d opt for an easy, ‘no’.  <br/>
<br/>
“...What do you mean, someone like me?” You asked.<br/>
<br/>
“Driven, brilliant, perceptive, adaptable,” Nathan listed without missing a beat before tacking on, “Have you received any offers, yes or no.”<br/>
<br/>
You didn’t think Nathan would try to stroke your ego for the sake of getting the answer he wanted, but you weren’t sure. <em>Brilliant - perceptive</em>? That meant more than you’d expected, coming from him. You considered this. He’d given you a little, you could give him a little.<br/>
<br/>
“Google, Apple, IBM,” You listed. Nathan didn’t react for a moment, just searched your face for any trace of deception. Then he leaned back in his seat, considering you.<br/>
<br/>
“CMO?”<br/>
<br/>
“Varied,” You answered, “SVP at IBM, SVP of Global Affairs at Google, CMO at Apple.”<br/>
<br/>
“All steps up,” Nathan acknowledged. You nodded.<br/>
<br/>
“...What’s stopping you?” Nathan asked. You lowered your eyes to the table. There were a few ways to answer that question. But you’d learned that day on the G650 that honesty was the best route with Nathan.<br/>
<br/>
“Loyalty,” You said. He nodded slowly.<br/>
<br/>
“...That’s gonna fuck you over some day,” He warned. You smiled.<br/>
<br/>
"Probably,” You agreed, “But, like I said: still weighing my options.”<br/>
<br/>
Nathan grunted, picking up his wine glass and muttering, “Shit.”<br/>
<br/>
You both went quiet for a few moments. Fear had wormed its way into your stomach. You hadn’t told anyone at work that you’d been approached by any other companies, let alone had conversations about leaving Blue Book.<br/>
<br/>
“So, where’s Mark think you are tonight?” Nathan asked. You lifted your eyes back to his, tipping your head to the side questioningly.<br/>
<br/>
“He didn’t ask you what you were up to?” He added. You nodded, conceding. You’d missed out on the conference’s happy hour last year because you were mortified of what had happened; you’d missed out on it this year because you were getting ready for what you were refusing to call a date.<br/>
<br/>
“He did,” You admitted, “I told him I had plans.”<br/>
<br/>
“Vague,” Nathan’s tone edged on accusatory.<br/>
<br/>
“He doesn’t need to know what I’m up to,” You countered sharply. Nathan seemed briefly taken aback by the turn in your tone; then his lips quirked into that damnable smirk that you’d been privilege to one too many times. You usually got it on the videos you received from Nathan where he had either just worked out, or he was a little tipsy - either way, it meant that he was in a good mood. You wanted to hate that look, but over the past year, you come to crave it and re-watched every single video that he sent you. You liked any look on Nathan that wasn’t a frown, or a scowl (though some part of you liked those, too).<br/>
<br/>
“You worried what people will think if they find out you’re here with me?” Nathan asked. You scoffed.<br/>
<br/>
“If I was worried about that, I wouldn’t be here,” You said flatly. Nathan nodded, murmured,<br/>
<br/>
“Good girl.”<br/>
<br/>
You wanted to hate that, too.<br/>
<br/>
--</p><p>You knew where the evening was <em>supposed</em> to go.<br/>
<br/>
Yes, you had resolutely refused to call it a date - mostly because you hadn’t wanted to be wrong. But after the check had come ("Are you even gonna reach for that?” He’d asked. You’d raised a brow, “Why would I insult our intelligence like that?”), there had been a tension in the air.<br/>
<br/>
You and Nathan had been slightly flirtatious for the last year - jokes about playing house where Maya was involved; you’d started sending him videos in response, when you weren’t at work, because he’d ‘complained’ that he couldn’t be the ‘pretty one in this relationship’. So, when he’d drained his wine glass, set it on the table, and asked you, “Are we getting out of here?”, you knew exactly what he meant.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah. We’re getting out of here,” You’d answered, and he’d given you that slow, exquisite smile again.<br/>
<br/>
Nathan’s hand rested on your lower back as the two of you headed out of the restaurant; he’d already called a cab, and it would be outside in a moment.<br/>
<br/>
“Nathan?” You asked, folding your hands over your bag as the two of you stood on the curb.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah?”<br/>
<br/>
“Why haven’t you reprogrammed Maya yet?”<br/>
<br/>
He quirked a brow at you.<br/>
<br/>
“You have to remove yourself as an administrator,” He excused. You gave him a knowing look.<br/>
<br/>
“You backed up Maya while we were on the flight over to Berlin. You could reset her to the backup without me as an administrator, no problem. So, why haven’t you reprogrammed Maya yet?”<br/>
<br/>
Nathan hummed, resting his hand on your hip to turn you toward him, and sliding the other up your back.<br/>
<br/>
“Like I said,” He murmured, “Perceptive.”<br/>
<br/>
Your first kiss was about to be in the middle of an Oslo street - oddly picturesque, almost off-puttingly sweet.<br/>
<br/>
And then your phone rang.<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t answer it,” Nathan shook his head, close enough that his nose brushed yours, “<em>Don</em>’<em>t</em>--”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s Mark,” You mumbled, worried, recognizing the ringtone. Nathan groaned, letting his head drop forward onto your shoulder as you rummaged around in your bag for your phone. You pulled it out, hitting the ‘accept’ button and bringing your hand up to cup the back of Nathan’s head.<br/>
<br/>
“What’s up?” You asked hurriedly, impatient to get off of the phone, thumb skidding over Nathan’s nape as he mouthed at your neck. You froze, hand tightening on the back of Nathan’s neck to still him as you listened to Mark on the other end.<br/>
<br/>
“<em>What?” </em>You snapped into the phone.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
This was not how the evening was supposed to go.<br/>
<br/>
Were you and Nathan back in your hotel room? Yes.<br/>
<br/>
Were you and Nathan supposed to be hunched over your own work? No. No, absolutely not.<br/>
<br/>
A Blue Book phone had exploded.<br/>
<br/>
Somewhere between the fifth course and dessert, and Nathan ordering a second bottle of wine for the two of you, a Blue Book phone had exploded.<br/>
<br/>
This was supposed to be impossible; there had been a trend in exploding phones over the last few years, and the cause had almost all been faults in the manufacturing. But Blue Book was a notorious stickler for quality, there was no way that this could be the case.<br/>
<br/>
The two of you had hopped into the cab Nathan had called, and rerouted it to your hotel. Now he was taking apart your personal phone while you ran damage control (or tried to).<br/>
<br/>
Now and again, he’d mutter something to himself, and you’d glance at where he’d taken up residence at your desk. You were on a call on your work phone with the product team and the manufacturers.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, well, we’re still waiting for the official report to come back,” Taylor said, “As soon as we get that, we’ll shoot it over to you guys. I’m sure the big guy’ll have something to say about this. We’ll hop off now, I’m sure we’ve all got work to do.”<br/>
<br/>
You glanced over at Nathan, who turned, giving your work phone an unimpressed look.<br/>
<br/>
“Alright, thanks guys,” You said before you hung up. You huffed a breath out through your nose, bringing up the email that the PR rep had sent you with a draft of the statement that they planned on sending out. You scanned it, mouth twisting contemplatively before you pressed the reply button, beginning to make edits.<br/>
<br/>
“What’s got you typing so fast back there?” Nathan asked.<br/>
<br/>
“Preliminary statement about the incident,” You answered. He was by your side in seconds, reading over your shoulder. You hardly spared him a glance. After a moment, he said, “No.” That made you stop typing.<br/>
<br/>
“<em>No</em>?” You repeated, turning your head to look at him.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t like that,” He said, pointing to something you’d just written, “It should say--”<br/>
<br/>
“Hang on,” You cut him off, “Don’t come over here and tell me how to do my job. Have you figured out what might’ve caused this to happen?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nothing in <em>my</em> phone did this,” Nathan said sharply.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sure you’re right, but until we have an official report, we <em>can</em>’t say that. Rolling back that statement would be a shitstorm. I don’t need you to micro-manage my corrections, Bateman, I know what the fuck I’m doing. How about you deal with the wires, and I’ll deal with the words,” You snapped before turning back to your laptop and resuming your work. Nathan didn’t answer you; for a few minutes the only sound in the room was your rapid typing. Finally, he asked,<br/>
<br/>
“How inappropriate is it that I find you incredibly hot right now?”<br/>
<br/>
Your irritation at your ruined evening stifled what otherwise would’ve been an amused smile as you answered, “On a scale of one to ten, I’d put it at about a four.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ve got more than four for you, honey,” He countered.<br/>
<br/>
"Keep it in your pants, Bateman, I’m busy.”<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
It had been a combination of an off-brand charger and a jailbreak patch that had caused the phone to overheat. You got that report at nearly two that morning, shortly after Nathan had put your personal phone back together. You’d already crafted a statement and sent it off to your PR department, with leadership and Nathan CC’d. Mark had replied shortly after that you were off the clock until tomorrow morning.<br/>
<br/>
You sighed, shutting your laptop and flopping back onto your bed, scrubbing your hands over your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
You felt the bed dip beside you a few moments later, and you lowered your hands to either side of your head, raising your brow when you saw Nathan looking down at you.<br/>
<br/>
“Can I help you?” You grumbled.<br/>
<br/>
“You know, I had other plans for tonight,” He said. You smiled tiredly.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, did you? You mean you didn’t orchestrate a Blue Book phone explosion to demonstrate the danger of jailbreaking your tech? Kinda seems like something you’d do,” You retorted.<br/>
<br/>
“That does seem like something I’d do,” Nathan conceded before he leaned in, brushing kisses to your bared neck. You closed your eyes, lifting a hand to smooth over Nathan’s head.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry I snapped at you before,” You mumbled. He hummed into your skin.<br/>
<br/>
“It was hot, so you’re forgiven.”<br/>
<br/>
You grinned this time, biting your lip.<br/>
<br/>
“If it wasn’t hot, would I be in trouble?” You asked. He chuckled, lifted his head to look down at you.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, honey,” He murmured, “You <em>are </em>in trouble.”<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
“What happened there?” You asked as you ran your finger over the scar on Nathan’s sternum.<br/>
<br/>
“...Long story,” Nathan muttered. He caught hold of your hand, turning it over and trailing his fingers over the soft of your wrist.<br/>
<br/>
“Shorten it,” You demanded, looking up at him.<br/>
<br/>
Nathan didn’t answer you; his lips were pressed into a thin line, his eyes set on the ceiling. You frowned, propping yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at his face.<br/>
<br/>
“Nathan?” You asked softly.<br/>
<br/>
“... This doesn’t leave this room.”<br/>
<br/>
His voice was heavy, thick with warning.<br/>
<br/>
“Of course,” You agreed, shaking your head.<br/>
<br/>
“You remember what I said about Maya being the next step, the logical progression?” He asked.<br/>
<br/>
“Mhm,” You nodded.<br/>
<br/>
“In order to direct that progression, you have to know what you’re building toward. An ultimate goal.”<br/>
<br/>
His fingers were still drifting steadily over your skin.<br/>
<br/>
“See it’s not enough just to want to climb Everest. You have to not be afraid of what you might find when you reach the top.”<br/>
<br/>
“So, you...Got stabbed by Mount Everest?” You asked after a moment, brow furrowed. Nathan tipped his head back and forth a little, thoughtful.<br/>
<br/>
“Something like that." He looked down at you, face calm as he waited. You frowned.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re not gonna say anything else?” You asked.<br/>
<br/>
“You can figure it out. You’re smart. Think it through,” He let his head rest back against your pillow, closing his eyes, “A logical progression.”<br/>
<br/>
You rested your chin on his chest, pouting. What could possibly be at the peak of this man’s Everest? It clicked after a few moments of quiet.<br/>
<br/>
“...Nathan,” You said as you realized it, pushing yourself back up to look at him, “You <em>didn’t</em>.”<br/>
<br/>
Nathan peeked an eye open at you.<br/>
<br/>
“Doesn’t. Leave. This. Room,” He stressed, reaching up and poking you sharply in the shoulder with each word. You gaped at him for a few moments before you managed to lower yourself back down beside him. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his side.  <br/>
<br/>
“...I can’t decide if you’re insane or if you’re a fucking genius,” You mumbled, “But I’m leaning toward insane, just because I’m starting to realize that your ego is stored in your beard. Whenever you were flattered at dinner, I swear it puffed up on its own.”<br/>
<br/>
Nathan pinched your side and you squirmed away from the pressure, swatting at his chest.<br/>
<br/>
“...Why’d you tell me?” You asked after a moment, peering up at him.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, you’re already under NDA,” He mumbled.<br/>
<br/>
"That can’t be it. If it was, you’d tell the whole leadership team,” You argued. Nathan grunted in agreement, his fingers skimming tenderly over your side.<br/>
<br/>
“...Let’s call it a trust exercise.”<br/>
<br/>
A <em>trust</em> exercise.<br/>
<br/>
Sometimes you hated Nathan Bateman.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
“How can you stay here?” You asked as you watched him move around his kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
It had taken a moderate amount of prodding, but Nathan had convinced you to take time off (”I know what the vacation policy says, and I know for a <em>fact</em> that the only time off that you’ve taken was one sick day because of that airport sushi, which I still can’t fucking believe you bought,” He’d reminded you). He’d asked you to come back to Norway, but to come and stay with him at his home this time. You’d been intimidated by the vastness of the estate itself; he’d forewarned you about the hike between the helicopter drop and the house itself.<br/>
<br/>
Luckily, Maya had greeted you as soon as you’d opened the door, and let you know where you could leave your things, as well as where Nathan was (because the place was a <em>fucking labyrinth)</em>.<br/>
<br/>
After the night you two had spent together in Oslo, he’d explained the scar in more detail. You knew exactly what had gone down -- being in the facility made you anxious.<br/>
<br/>
Nathan glanced back at you, frowning.<br/>
<br/>
“Whaddaya mean?” He asked. You raised your brows a bit, tipping your head forward to look at him.</p><p>“...You’re kidding, right?”</p><p>Nathan rolled his eyes, turning back to the sink.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re overreacting,” He answered flatly.<br/>
<br/>
“Overreact-- Maya?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes?” The console answered you.<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t. Do not bring Maya into this,” Nathan grumbled.<br/>
<br/>
“On average, how many people a year die from traumatic cardiac penetration?” You asked over him.<br/>
<br/>
“Approximately 16,000 deaths a year in the United States are a result of chest trauma,” Maya answered.<br/>
<br/>
“We’re in Norway you dumb fuckin’ machine,” Nathan retorted.<br/>
<br/>
“I can search databases for traumatic cardiac penetration in Norway if you give me a moment,” Maya offered.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s really not necessary, Maya-- Listen,” Nathan said, whirling around and walking over to where you were perched on the counter. He pulled his shirt up with one hand and reached out with the other, taking hold of your wrist and bringing your hand up to press to his scar.<br/>
<br/>
“<em>This</em>? This is a reminder. This <em>house </em>is a reminder... I learned from this, alright?” You were unable to tear your eyes away from his. You saw a sharpness that you hadn’t seen there before; it startled you. You nodded a little bit.<br/>
<br/>
“Not to mention the fiber optics would be a motherfucker to move, I mean,” Nathan tacked on, shaking his head. You laughed shakily. The sound trailed off after a few moments before you smoothed your thumb over his scar.<br/>
<br/>
“...How do you know it won’t happen again?” You asked quietly.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t.”<br/>
<br/>
“That doesn’t scare you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, now I can get Maya to call the police on a psycho bot.”<br/>
<br/>
“Calling the police--”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, my <em>god</em><sub>, </sub><em>Maya, </em>not <em>now-- </em>It’s coming out of the wall.”<br/>
<br/>
“If I’m extracted from the wall, I won’t be able to help you in the event of an emergency, Nathan,” Maya pointed out.<br/>
<br/>
“She’s got ya there,” You pointed out. You leaned down, sliding your fingers away from the scar and pressing a gentle kiss to it. You felt Nathan shiver a bit at your touch. You leaned up, pressing your lips to his. He slid his hands over your thighs, squeezing softly.<br/>
<br/>
“Why’d you bring me here?” You asked, leaning away.<br/>
<br/>
“Because I wanted to talk to you about something,” Nathan said. You raised a brow.<br/>
<br/>
“Something that couldn’t be discussed over the phone?”<br/>
<br/>
"Could’ve been, but I wanted to be with you when I said it,” He said. Your brows rose.<br/>
<br/>
“<em>With</em> me?” You repeated, “What... Is happening?”<br/>
<br/>
“Mark is stepping down as CMO.”<br/>
<br/>
“...What?” You asked, blinking dumbly.<br/>
<br/>
“Mhm.”<br/>
<br/>
“Since fucking when? He hasn’t said <em>anything </em>to me--”<br/>
<br/>
“He hasn’t said anything to anyone yet, technically. He sent his signed offer letter for a position at Microsoft from his work email like a dumbass,” Nathan said. You scoffed a laugh.<br/>
<br/>
“You creeped his email?” You asked, stunned.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn’t fuckin’ creep anything, honey. He signed an NDA, in which he agreed to a regular data audit with <em>unlimited access</em>. We go through your shit, too, you know that."<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, but...” You floundered before you leaned back against your hands, your eyes moving around the kitchen as you processed the information.<br/>
<br/>
“What are you thinking?” Nathan asked, hands rubbing over your thighs.<br/>
<br/>
“Mark’s leaving...Mark fuckin’ interviewed me, this is like the end of a fuckin’ era.”<br/>
<br/>
“Would you go with him?” Nathan asked. Your eyes darted to him, confused.<br/>
<br/>
“What?”<br/>
<br/>
“If Mark called you right now and said, ‘Hey, I’m going to Microsoft, they want you, too, it’s a $50,000 raise, 12% signing bonus’, what would you say?” Nathan pressed.<br/>
<br/>
You narrowed your eyes at him, disbelieving.<br/>
<br/>
“Is there another email that you saw that you haven’t told me about?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not a hard fuckin’ question, honey--”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s a <em>weird</em> one, Nate, what the fuck?” You shot back, sitting up a little straighter to look at him. He slid his hands up under your shirt.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes or no--”<br/>
<br/>
“<em>No, </em>I wouldn’t,” You answered firmly.<br/>
<br/>
Nathan leaned back, a pleased smile pulling at his lips.<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t give me that look,” You mumbled, “And don’t say it. I know loyalty’s gonna bite me in the ass one of these days.”<br/>
<br/>
“Won’t be today,” He soothed, leaning up and pecking your lips gently before he headed over to the sink. You watched him go, frowning.<br/>
<br/>
“...Was that another fucking trust exercise?” You asked.<br/>
<br/>
“What do you want for breakfast?” Was his answer, and you groaned.<br/>
<br/>
“Is Mark even leaving?” You added. Nathan turned back to you.<br/>
<br/>
“He is. I wouldn’t make that up for the sake of a hypothetical, I’m not a complete shitstain.”<br/>
<br/>
You hmphed, unconvinced, and he pointed a spatula at you.<br/>
<br/>
“Retract that sound or I’m not cooking for you.”<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
You woke up alone.<br/>
<br/>
You didn’t like that.<br/>
<br/>
You’d been at the facility for almost a week, and you’d gotten used to the fact that Nathan didn’t keep a regular sleep schedule.<br/>
<br/>
“...Maya?” You mumbled.<br/>
<br/>
“Good morning,” Maya answered.<br/>
<br/>
“Hi there-- Where’s Nathan?”<br/>
<br/>
“He’s in his office. Do you remember how to get there, or would you like me to guide you?”<br/>
<br/>
You remembered. You didn’t want to walk there in silence, though. Something about the place just gave you the creeps. While this place may be like a reminder for Nathan, it felt like a forewarning to you. You sighed, pushing yourself out of bed and locating your sleep shorts and shirt where Nathan had thrown them the night before. You grabbed his black hoodie, too, pulling it on and leaving it unzipped.<br/>
<br/>
“Walk with me, Maya,” You requested. As you walked to Nathan’s office, Maya read off the time, the weather, and the top news stories. You swiped your key card at the door to Nathan’s office, shoulders sagging with relief when you saw Nathan in front of his monitors. He didn’t even look away as he muttered, “Hey, honey.”<br/>
<br/>
You smiled sleepily at that. You walked farther inside, coming up behind his chair and leaning down, resting your hands on his shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
“Hi,” You mumbled.<br/>
<br/>
“Sleep alright?” He asked.<br/>
<br/>
“Mhm,” You hummed. You lifted your eyes to his screen before you straightened up, letting your hands fall away.<br/>
<br/>
“Push your chair back,” You told him.<br/>
<br/>
“Not right now. I’ll join you for lunch or something-- I just really gotta...” He trailed off, eyes set on the screen. You frowned.<br/>
<br/>
“Push your chair back, Bateman,” You repeated, tone a little more forceful. He frowned, eyes lifting to you.<br/>
<br/>
“...What for,” His tone was flat, irritated.<br/>
<br/>
“Because I told you to,” You answered, “You brought me all the way to Norway, I’m leaving tomorrow, and I’d like to spend some fucking time with you. You’ll still get to do your work, don’t worry. Now, push your fucking chair back.”<br/>
<br/>
Nathan’s jaw twitched. You saw his hands clench and unclench at the keyboard before he pushed his chair back. You turned, straddling him so that you were pressed chest to chest. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, nuzzling your face into his neck.<br/>
<br/>
“Alright, get back to typing,” You mumbled, “Go nuts.”<br/>
<br/>
There was a pause, then you felt Nathan chuckle softly before his hands returned to the keyboard. You felt yourself relax, almost lulled back to sleep by the rhythmic tapping of keys. Now and again there would be a pause as Nathan would stop to jot down a note, or to reread his work. His hands would settle on your thighs, or drift over your back.<br/>
<br/>
“You hungry?” He asked after a while. You hummed in response.<br/>
<br/>
“Time is it?” You muttered.<br/>
<br/>
“Almost noon." He wrapped his arms around your waist, cuddling you closer. You sighed, squirming in his lap. He hissed softly, rolling his hips up against you.<br/>
<br/>
“Do that again and it’ll take us even longer to get to lunch,” He warned. You hesitated before you squirmed again, smiling against his skin as his hands slid up under the fabric of the hoodie.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
“Would you come back here?” Nathan mumbled against your shoulder. You frowned, glancing down at him. He couldn’t possibly mean back to bed; you hadn’t moved since the two of you had finished. You ran your fingers over his shoulder blades.<br/>
<br/>
“For another visit? I haven’t even finished this one yet,” You teased.<br/>
<br/>
“Not for another visit. If I asked you to move in, would you?” Nathan pushed himself up to get a better look at you. Your brow furrowed at the question.<br/>
<br/>
“Is this another trust exercise?” You asked.<br/>
<br/>
"No, this is me asking you to move in,” Nathan spoke slowly, as if he were addressing a five-year-old and not you, “And again, it’s not a hard fuckin’ question.”<br/>
<br/>
You recoiled at that, and you pushed yourself back on the bed, sitting up and out of his reach.<br/>
<br/>
“Uh-- Yeah, it actually <em>is</em> a hard fuckin’ question. I have shit that I need to consider.”<br/>
<br/>
“Like what?”<br/>
<br/>
“Like the fact that my entire life is in California.”<br/>
<br/>
“They’ve got movers for that.”<br/>
<br/>
“Or the fact that you live in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere.”<br/>
<br/>
“You can pack up and move <em>anywhere</em>, I need to be out here for my work. You know that,” Nathan stressed.<br/>
<br/>
“How about the fact that I’d need to explain to leadership that we’ve been fucking around for months?” You pointed out.<br/>
<br/>
“So what?” Nathan shrugged, “Once you’re promoted to CMO, that’s not gonna matter. What else, let’s go. I’m almost enjoying this.”<br/>
<br/>
Your mouth worked wordlessly, like a fish that had been pulled out of water.<br/>
<br/>
“I-- What?” You asked, shaking your head. Nathan fixed you with a frown, eyes narrowed in irritation.<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t play stupid, honey, you know that that pisses me off.”<br/>
<br/>
“I am not playing stupid, Nathan, you’re not making any fucking sense--” You snapped.<br/>
<br/>
“This is the logical progression, not just for you, but for the company,” Nathan pointed out, raising his voice to speak over you, “I need someone that knows their shit, someone that knows Blue Book, someone that I trust. I trusted Mark for the most part, but I know that I trust the <em>fuck</em> out of you.”<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t think people are gonna see that as underhanded, me getting promoted to a leadership position and moving in with you in one breath?” You asked.<br/>
<br/>
“Who gives a shit?” Nathan asked. Your stomach dropped as you stared at him.<br/>
<br/>
“Me, Nathan. I do. <em>I</em> give a shit. No one is going to take me seriously in that role regardless of what I’ve been doing at Blue Book for the last seven years if it looks like the move was part of the fucking signing bonus.”<br/>
<br/>
“I thought you weren’t worried about what people thought,” Nathan reminded you.<br/>
<br/>
“I wasn’t <em>that night</em>,” You corrected him, “because-- Fuck, Nate, I didn’t think <em>that</em> would become <em>this</em>,” You waved between the two of you. Nathan didn’t say anything. He held very still for a moment before he lowered his head, tucking his chin against his chest. Then he turned, grabbing his sweatpants from where they’d been dropped over the side of the bed and pulling them on.<br/>
<br/>
“Nate,” You said quietly, watching him. Still, he said nothing, just grabbed his glasses from the bedside table.<br/>
<br/>
“<em>Nathan</em>,” you stressed.<br/>
<br/>
He left the room without a word.<br/>
<br/>
You slouched back against the headboard, muttering, “<em>Shit</em>.”<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
You gave him space. You took additional vacation days, and lingered. You’d figured that with the amount of CCTV in the facility, there was no way he didn’t know that you were still around. You had Maya direct you to a guest room and crashed in there.<br/>
<br/>
You’d been wrong, though - he hadn’t known that you stayed.<br/>
<br/>
That was why, at 3 A.M., when you couldn’t sleep, you found Nathan drunk in the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
He stared at you with bloodshot, hazy eyes, lips parted as he blinked at you.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re supposed to be gone,” He said after a moment, looking back down at the beer he’d been opening for himself.<br/>
<br/>
“... I put off my return flight,” You said.<br/>
<br/>
"What for, the scenery?” Nathan muttered. You bit your lip.<br/>
<br/>
“I thought we should talk. I’m sorry, I-- I thought you knew I was still around. I mean, not like Maya was drinking your milk,” You offered, laughing a little, trying to lighten the mood. Nathan didn’t laugh or crack a smile. He just watched you, blinking slow, taking another pull from his beer.<br/>
<br/>
You felt chilled. For all the time you’d spent talking with him, being with him in the last two years, you didn’t know the man that was in the kitchen with you now. This was a side of Nathan that you’d never seen. Tipsy was one thing, but this?<br/>
<br/>
You swallowed thickly.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll be out of here in the morning,” You said, taking a couple of steps back.<br/>
<br/>
“Sounds like a plan,” Nathan countered flatly. You lowered your eyes from his, turning away and hurrying back to the elevator.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
“Hey Maya?” You said, stopping by the door.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” Maya answered.<br/>
<br/>
“...Remove me as an administrator,” You requested, running your hand through your hair.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you certain?” Maya asked.<br/>
<br/>
“Yep,” You answered, tone clipped. There was a pause before Maya said, “You have been removed from the administrator settings. I am sorry to see you go.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” You mumbled, “So am I.”<br/>
<br/>
“Would you like to leave any messages for Nathan?” Maya asked.<br/>
<br/>
You thought for a moment.<br/>
<br/>
“Tell him...” <em>That I love him and I’m sorry</em>.<br/>
<br/>
You took a deep breath in and expelled that stupid thought with it.<br/>
<br/>
“... No. No messages for Mr. Bateman.”<br/>
<br/>
“Your hesitation and the inflection in your voice indicate that you’re lying.”<br/>
<br/>
You suddenly understood Nathan’s urge to rip the system out of the wall.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
You had never felt so unfocused in your life. You spent the next two weeks on-edge, waiting for Mark to make the announcement that he’d be leaving, waiting for him to clue you in, something. It occurred to you that you had never really seen proof that he’d be leaving; you’d taken Nathan at his word. And Nathan, well. You heard from him once after you left Norway.<br/>
<br/>
<b><em>N. Bateman</em></b>: What were you going to tell Maya to tell me?  <br/>
<br/>
You’d lost your nerve when you were there; you couldn’t say it over a computer now.<br/>
<br/>
<em>That you were running out of milk. </em><br/>
<br/>
He hadn’t answered that.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
“What does a next step look like to you?” Mark asked.<br/>
<br/>
You’d been considering this a lot – from several different angles.<br/>
<br/>
“Senior Vice President of Marketing. I know that the role doesn’t currently exist at Blue Book, but … It would give me more time to learn from the people above me.”<br/>
<br/>
Mark’s brows had raised.<br/>
<br/>
“You… Think you need that?” He asked. You nodded.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s the logical progression. I’m not bumping my head on the leadership team ceiling yet,” You smiled.<br/>
<br/>
Mark had just smiled tightly, muttered something about this being awkward, and promptly told you that he’d be leaving for Microsoft in a week and a half.<br/>
<br/>
--<br/>
<br/>
<b><em>N. Bateman</em></b>: We need to talk.<br/>
<br/>
<em>About what? </em><br/>
<br/>
<b><em>N. Bateman</em></b>: Open the door.<br/>
<br/>
You reread that message a couple of times before you pushed yourself off of your couch, dropping your laptop onto the cushion and walking over to the door. You hardly had a chance to get a look at him before he was pressing into past you into your apartment.<br/>
<br/>
“Senior vice president?”<br/>
<br/>
He spat the words like they insulted him.<br/>
<br/>
“It was a suggestion,” You answered tiredly, shutting the door behind him before stepping around him, “I just… It’s a good next step. A logical progression.”<br/>
<br/>
“I told you what my plan was,” He argued, following you to your living room.<br/>
<br/>
“Just because it’s you have a plan doesn’t mean it’ll happen that way.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s my fucking company, honey, that’s actually exactly what it means.”<br/>
<br/>
You pinched the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath.<br/>
<br/>
“…A new CMO couldn’t move to Berlin to work from the office that we’re opening there. An SVP could,” You argued.<br/>
<br/>
“Berlin,” He repeated.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s a compromise,” You added quietly.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t want you to compromise, I want you <em>with</em> me,” Nathan argued.<br/>
<br/>
“Nate, I fucking love you, but I am not knocking down what I’ve built at Blue Book because you refuse to bend a little,” You snapped, “I won’t.”  <br/>
<br/>
It didn’t really click with you, the first part of what you’d said. You just saw Nathan giving you that…Look. The one that he usually gave a line of code when he was looking for a bug.<br/>
<br/>
“…When I told you what I told you, about,” He gestured to the scar where you knew it was under his shirt, “It wasn’t,” He shook his head, “It wasn’t a trust exercise.”<br/>
<br/>
“What was it?” You frowned.<br/>
<br/>
“A confession.”<br/>
<br/>
“Of insanity?”<br/>
<br/>
“<em>Honey</em>,” Nathan wandered closer, watching you, “You know how I feel about your playing stupid.”<br/>
<br/>
“And you know how I feel about that phrase, Bateman,” You retorted, narrowing your eyes at him.<br/>
<br/>
Nathan reached out, resting his hands on your hips.<br/>
<br/>
“…Berlin?” He asked. You felt your lips pull down in apprehension before you nodded.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s a start,” He conceded, “And I’ve been thinking about it—You’re right. Fuckin’ stupid as it is, people would have something to say if you moved in with me as soon as you were promoted.”<br/>
<br/>
You gaped at him.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry, can you say that again?” You requested, turning your head a little bit, raising a hand to point to your ear.<br/>
<br/>
“People would have something to say, and it’s stupid,” Nathan repeated.<br/>
<br/>
“Mm—No, the other thing,” You said.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s a start?” He asked.<br/>
<br/>
“Alright, now who’s playing fuckin’ stupid?” You grumbled. Nathan tugged you closer by your hips.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re right. Satisfied?”<br/>
<br/>
“I will be once I receive a signed statement saying so. I’d like to frame it,” You agreed. Nathan rolled his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“That can be your housewarming present. Happy?” He asked.<br/>
<br/>
“Ecstatic,” You confirmed. You were quiet for a moment, resting your hands on Nathan’s arms.<br/>
<br/>
“… Nate, what I said—”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t,” Nathan said, shaking his head, “Don’t apologize.” You lowered your eyes as his hands slid up your back.<br/>
<br/>
“…A confession?” You asked quietly.<br/>
<br/>
“You need me to say it?” He asked. You shook your head a little bit,<br/>
<br/>
“I think I’ve got it.”<br/>
<br/>
Nathan’s hand lifted, thumb and forefinger lightly gripping your chin to lift it to meet his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“You sure? ‘Cause you didn’t get it the last time.”<br/>
<br/>
You rolled your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“Well maybe that’s because you purposely diverted me the last time,” You argued.<br/>
<br/>
“…Berlin,” Nathan determined, sliding his hand down your neck, “Where do we go from there?”<br/>
<br/>
You chuckled.<br/>
<br/>
“How about I get to Berlin first, <em>then</em> we can worry about next steps. Go middle before we go big, Bateman.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>